


World Without Unicorns

by GodOfWar



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is patient, Crowley was Raphael before he fell, Crowley was a starmaker, F/M, Gen, I prefer so but it's up to you, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Or not, Unicorns, act of creation, could be read as, crowley in artistic frenzy, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 14:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodOfWar/pseuds/GodOfWar
Summary: There are no more unicorns in the world and two immortal beings are rather unhappy about it.Sort of sequel to the seaskyrock ficlet on tumblr, link inside. Go read it first - So Pure.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	World Without Unicorns

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You never see Unicorns anymore](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/532360) by seaskystone. 

In a late summer of 2020 the topic comes up again over the glass of wine and with soft glow of downing sun peeking through the colored glass of their home. Aziraphale laughs softly at the the memory triggered by fluffy toy perched on the table, a present for a new arrival in the Device household.

Crowley takes the ribbing with a roll of his eyes and melancholic smile that turns into expression Aziraphale knows too well by now.

His willy adversary, the love of his eternal life has an idea. 

He steels himself for whatever chaos that Crowley could stir up and nibbles on his biscuit and decides to enjoy peace while it lasts. That night neither goes to sleep and that’s not unusual occurrence. Aziraphale rarely indulges and Crowley, while great lover of the art of sloth, often stays up when the mood strikes. So when the door of Crowley’s workshop close, Aziraphale sighs with tentative relief and settles for a good quiet night of reading.

It isn’t quiet.

Crowley swears. Creatively, like only someone with imagination could. There is a banging and sounds not unlike explosions, except nothing blows up. Aziraphale looks at the dark sky at his book and then decides that whatever weather was planned for this night will simply not happen unless it’s warm and cloudless, thank you. He takes his book, a soft tartan blanket and cocoa, opens the door and settles himself on the large comfy chair breathing in the warm air. With a snap of his fingers light appears over his head, stretches over the garden and is just enough to read by.

Crowley isn’t done by morning.

He isn’t done by the next evening either.

He ventures out once, kisses Aziraphale’s knuckles and tells him that ‘this one might take a while’ and goes back, clothes covered in sooth.

Aziraphale waits. He is eaten by curiosity, but doesn’t try to peek in when Crowley slinks out of their home to tend to the garden, nor when he cooks and not even when he takes an hour walk in the fallowing days.

He isn’t worried, maybe a bit lonely, but not worried.

It’s day eight when a car stops at the gate and spits out ex-Antichrist, witch, witchfinder and a squealing baby carrier with a proper baby inside.

“Where is Crowley?” Rather tired looking Anathema cradles her hands around a cup of strong coffee and squints at the shadows like she expects the demon to jump out with little to no provocation at all to try to scare them. He wouldn’t of course. That’s a play for a low-lives and adventurous children.

“He is...preoccupied.” Aziraphale takes a sip looking rather pointedly upstairs.”It’s been a week, already. Honestly, I have no idea what goes in that head of his. I think the last time he worked this hard the M25 gained its rather unfortunate shape. Adam, why don’t you go ask him down?”

The child shots out of the room before the sentence end, trainers squeaking on the wooden steps. And then nearly gets himself brained by the door as they open wide with frazzled demon hanging on the doorknob.

“Angel!”,the holler changes midway as he notices Adam standing to the side.”Hi, kid. Can you get everyone to the front garden? Thanks. Chop-chop!” 

Long fingers rustle blond hair before door closes right before Adam’s nose. He huffs and shakes his hair, watching golden specs fall on the floor.

It take a moment to gather rather reluctant crowd for impromptu walk, but walk they go, yawning in their cups and listening to an angel chattering on pears and carrots. Adam doesn’t hear a word of the rather spirited monologue. He listens to something else. There is something...new. Something that wasn’t before but now was. It feels strange. Bright. Hot. Wild, but also calm and peaceful. Whatever it is, it’s moving right from Mr Crowley’s room and into the back of the house.

“I think we have to go.” Adam takes Aziraphale’s hand and leads him to where the strange energy is coming from and then abruptly stops. “Wicked!”

Aziraphale gasps at his side, hand covering him mouth as he looks in wonder at his husband.

“That’s...that’s...” Newton sits heavily on the grass, his daughter laughing into his shoulder at the sudden delightful change of perspective.

Crowley kicks piece of grass close to his foot, he is covered in gold and orange particles and holding two ropes, squirming slightly in place.

“I couldn’t save the last ones so...I made new? They don’t look the same, obviously, I didn’t have the matrix for that and I think they were made with a bit different ingredients...holy light maybe? Made them with genders, too! Didn’t forget that one... that’s...I mean...Do you like it? Them! Do you like them?“

Aziraphale nodded frantically, feeling the tears stream down onto his cheeks. He took those few steps and gathered Crowley into a hug, before kissing his forehead and then laughing wetly as he leaned close.

“How...darling, how?” Crowley raised one hand, slipping the rope into his other one,then put it on the golden hide shining in a full sun like a polished statue

“Had a bit of spare stradust. Wasn’t that hard.” Crowley peered over his arm at his shocked audience before smiling wildly, yellow eyes full of mischief.” So...Adam, want to ride a unicorn?”


End file.
